Tragic
by the lights of paris
Summary: Her hair is paper thin, her lips ice cold blue, her cheeks are stained with black, thick smudges and his heart breaks because he's never seen anything more tragically beautiful. CB. ONESHOT.


**Title: **Tragic.

**Summary: **Her hair is paper thin, her lips ice cold blue, her cheeks are stained with black, thick smudges and his heart breaks because he's never seen anything more tragically beautiful. CB. ONESHOT.

**Authors Note: **Another oneshot, it's a bit to much right? Also the ending I wrote wasn't the one I planned.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gossip Girl.

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She visits him one morning when the air is cold, the wind splashes around her, her coat flaps in the wind. Her hand raises up and hovers over the door, her teeth sink into her lower lip a speck of blood spills from her lips, she doesn't know why she's so nervous. Her hand taps against the door lightly. She can hear feet shuffling on the other side of the door and then it's pulled open and it reveals _him._ She can feel her heart pounding in her chest (thud, thud, _thud_) and she swears her breathing has rapidly increased.

Her hair is paper thin, her lips ice cold blue, her cheeks are stained with black, thick smudges and his heart breaks because he's never seen anything more tragically beautiful. He lets her inside despite his mind not too, she'll break his heart and tear it into two. He thought they had stood a chance but then their car had crashed and everything had gone to hell and suddenly she didn't want him anymore. He wasn't even able to say goodbye or to grieve with her over the loss of her baby. She floats inside, depositing her coat on the ground. Her eyes are drawn too his bedroom door and she walks towards it as if in a trance. He quickly follows her and grabs her waist from behind.

He freezes as he hands come in contact with her skin, her dress has a slit in the hips and he can feel the coldness of her skin. His hand recoils, her skin shouldn't be _that_ cold. She freezes slightly as he removes his hand, he's disgusted by her just like everybody else but she keeps moving. She pushes the door open and absentmindedly kicks of her heels. She hops on top of his bed, the covers going untouched and curls up in a fetal position. Her eyes shut as the word fetal flows through her mind, she stretches out her limbs wanting no reminder of the baby that was once inside of her but no longer isn't, instead he's kept inside a grave covered with peonies in _Monoco. _The thought alone of her baby being miles away from her makes her want to weep and most days it does.

She hears his jacket land on the floor with a soft thud and she feels his presence behind her, he's unsure of whether to climb in bed with her and wrap his arms around her. She looks so frail, so weak, like a helpless little child, she looks nothing like Blair Waldorf yet she looks exactly like her. It's her without the layers shes built around herself, without the tough exterior that never leaves her. He backs away from her because she's married, he saw it splashed front page on all of the newspapers but then he screws being good because he wants too be there for her, to comfort her, the way he should of after the accident. He wraps his arms around her and brings her closer towards him, his hand brushes against her stomach and she takes in a sharp intake of breath. A life doesn't reside there anymore and she feels so empty whenever a hand lands there.

She doesn't want to cry in front of him, she doesn't want to appear weak even though she is. She's dying, she's drowning and Louis isn't able to save her, no one is able to save her. No one's ever been able to save her, it hit her hard and knocked her to her knees when she first realized it. She lets the salty tears run down her cheek, she lets them wash with her mascara and eyeliner. They had already mingled earlier on in the day and she hadn't bothered to wash it off, that in itself proved that she wasn't well.

She was cracking, the lines were already starting to show. She couldn't hide it any longer, she couldn't hide the fact that death was looking better and better every day. She didn't want to hide it anymore, it hurt too much. She doesn't know why she came to the Empire, why she came to see Chuck. She should be with Louis, she should be with her _husband_. The word makes her visibly cringe he was a mistake, he always had been.

"I'm sorry," She croaks out and he takes a sharp intake of breath, she doesn't need to be sorry, _he's_ the one who's sorry. She's sorry for everything that had happened between them, how they had crashed and burned, she's sorry for giving him false hope, she's sorry for the loss of her child, she's just _sorry_. He combs his fingers through her brown locks as she sniffles and for the first time since what seems like forever no romantic thoughts about her flood his mind, only platonic ones and for a moment he worries because he's getting _over_ her.

And by the time she leaves his hotel, her coat wrapped around her small frame, her face clean of make up, her face clean of a tragic frown, he knows that he's over her. He also knows that this is the very end of the tale that was Chuck and Blair.


End file.
